


Mirror

by Fourthera



Series: Lucio Week 2018 [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 22:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13374549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourthera/pseuds/Fourthera
Summary: Day 2 of Lucio Week 2018. Today's prompt is "mirror." Tagged for some nudity.





	Mirror

            Nika’s legs are sore by the time she makes it to Lucio’s room. His messenger—a frightened little servant boy who looked like he hardly knew his own way around town—knocked on her door about midmorning, bringing a cryptic but apparently urgent summons to the palace. She’d sent the boy off with directions and a sigh, already wishing she’d gone to bed earlier and gotten more sleep.

            “Lucio,” she says as she opens the door, not bothering to knock, “You’d best have a good reason for summoning me like this.” She shuts the door behind her without looking at him, but regrets her choice immediately when she finally does. Posed in front of his gargantuan, gold-trimmed mirror is Lucio, completely devoid of anything even resembling clothing. Nika stops wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

            “Like what you see?” Lucio croons seductively from his spot before the mirror. He flexes, displaying himself so openly that Nika flushes brilliantly from ears to neck, slaps her hands over her eyes, and turns to face away from the spectacle of man.

            “Absolutely not!” she cries, not at all convincing. Lucio guffaws loudly.

            “Come now, Nika. You’re my personal advisor,” he says, his voice migrating steadily closer. Suddenly, Lucio’s arms wrap around her and tug her against him. “It’s just a little nudity,” he purrs into her ear. Nika struggles futilely against his grasp.

            “Put some clothes on!” she demands as she writhes to get free.

            “No,” he refuses immediately, “It’s going to be a nude portrait and it absolutely _must_ be perfect. I must know _every_ detail.” Lucio pulls her in the direction of the mirror, not even fazed by her thrashing.

            “I’m _not_ going to help you with a boudoir portrait!”

            “It’s not a _boudoir_ portrait; you don’t have to be so difficult,” Lucio retorts.

            “At least put some pants on! It doesn’t even have to be a good pair!” Nika begs. Lucio huffs in her ear, but lets her go.

            “Fine, if you’ll actually help me pick a pose after,” he compromises.

            “Yes!” There is a quiet shuffling of cloth and, finally, Lucio says, “Alright, you can look.” She peeks through her fingers carefully and sighs with blessed relief at the sight of Lucio in a pair of white—though criminally loose—pants.

            “Better?” he asks with a spin. The laces at his hip aren’t tied and the fabric there flies wildly, but it is better than how he was.

            “It will work,” she says.

            “Excellent!” He softly brushes her chin and then faces the mirror again. “Now, the court painter is coming tomorrow to do a new portrait of me. I want a pose that speaks to my natural prowess and power.” He flexes his arms again and turns his shoulders.

            “You took so long to get here,” he adds, “that I took the liberty of coming up with a few for you to review.” He strikes his first pose—a typical strongman pose.

            “Basic,” Nika says before he can comment.

            “How so?” he asks indignantly. She sits on his four-poster bed and meets his gaze in the mirror.

            “I can guarantee any ruler who fancies themself a conqueror has a portrait with that sort of pose. Try again.” They spend an hour this way, neither fully satisfied with a pose. Nika rubs her temples in frustration—and in the attempt to stave off an exhaustion headache—while Lucio continues to preen and pose in the mirror.

            “Can you- C-Can—“ Nika groans and stands. Her every suggestion he’d found issue with and his lack of openness and snide attitude to her ideas became more difficult to take with each pose. She grabs a stack of books from one of his many shelves and puts in on the floor by his feet.

            “What are you doing?” Lucio asks, looking down at her.

            “Just—“ Nika sighs and rubs her brow. “Just prop your foot on this,” she finally says. Though confused, Lucio does as she asks while Nika shuffles around his room until she finds a candlesnuffer. She flips it over and rests Lucio’s gold hand atop the handle. She grabs his other hand, places it on his hip, then turns his head so he is looking at the wall. She stands back to take in the pose and nods with finality.

            “This is your pose,” she tells him and returns to her spot on the bed. Lucio turns his head and observes the pose in the mirror.

            “Why _this_ one?”

            “It’s not as dramatic as the others you’ve suggested, but it’s more regal and still conveys your inflated sense of power,” she explains with a sigh.

            “I _am_ a force to be reckoned with!” he says with a glare. Nika rolls her eyes.

            “Yes, fearsome. Anyway, the candlesnuffer is a sword and your foot...is on a rock or something, I don’t care. With you gazing off into the distance, you look like you’re surveying your next conquest. Put all your arm’s plates on and your bits out there and boom”—she waggles her fingers at him for emphasis—“you’ve got a decent power portrait.” She reclines on his bed while he takes in his pose.

            He does so quietly for a long time and the silence lets Nika’s thoughts wander freely. She traces the patterns in Lucio’s coverlet, marveling at the high quality. Doing so is hypnotic and soothing; with each traced stem and flower petal, her eyelids droop a little lower and though she hears Lucio speaking to her now, the words are indistinct. The bed cushions her weight delightfully and seductively, tugging her in to sleep until her eyes are shut completely.

 

            Still standing before the mirror, Lucio twists and turns in the pose Nika set up. No doubt the effect she saw was not observable by him since he was the intended subject, but he’d been hoping for something...a little more powerful in her advice.

            “Hmm, I’m not sure it really breathes _power_ ,” he says. “What if I held my scepter in my other hand?” His question is met with silence, which doesn’t disturb him—until it goes a little too long. “Nika?” He turns to face her and get an answer, but stops short when he sees her. Nika is reclined across his bed, asleep, looking like she slipped out of a painting from Karnassos.

            “Beautiful,” he breathes, “but you’re not much help to me now. I’ll forgive you this once.” With a grin, he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead and moves her more completely onto the bed. “Maybe you’re right,” he muses. “I am regal _and_ powerful...”

**Author's Note:**

> Weeks later, when the portrait is finished, Nika will throw her shoe at Lucio when she finds out he was only teasing her...


End file.
